Retrospect

Night fell around the only car on the two lane road in the backwaters of the sleepy town. A pair of headlights flickered to life as day gave way to dusk, and with it the dangers of deer leaping onto the roadway. Behind the wheel was a naval officer, her sweatpants and t-shirt ensemble allowing her to blend in with the civilians while she was on leave. She doesn't want the attention, she never has but it always seems to find her. The county knew her as the spelling bee champ, and chemist. But only the school teacher knew that she hated the attention and praise. Her eyes were bright with the promise of sandy beaches and opportunity waiting for her back at the navel base, but sad knowing that her time at home was quickly drawing to a close.

Next to her was a school teacher, her eyes weary and tired from countless hours of grading. Neither spoke, instead they listened to the random playlist coming through the speakers and took in the flashes of light pirouetting through the trees around them. The school teacher took out her phone, taking the rare opportunity to photograph the cloud-speckled sunset that she had seen so many times before. She flipped through the photo filters before settling on one that made the colors burst forth from the screen, but none of them seemed to do the scene justice.

"Get off your phone and talk to me. I leave on Saturday," the officer said.

Hindsight is 20/20, and memories are fickle. They morph and change depending on what we need from them. Memories are often unreliable, but it's amazing how the simple moments grow to have the most significant meaning for us.

Honestly, when I took this picture it meant nothing. It was a pretty sunset, so I snapped a picture. For once I was in the passenger seat of my car, being driven by my sister who had come home to visit from the Navy. This was rare for me since I'm usually the one driving. I am the dependable one that others seek for advice, comfort, and support. So an opportunity to take a moment and enjoy the sunset made sense to me.

I didn't prepare for the picture to become as important or meaningful as it is now. I didn't prepare for the weight of missing someone thousands of miles away for over a year; for the simple moments of riding in the car with my sister, or a slice of my mom's sweet potato pie. There are so many things we take for granted because they are easily accessible...until they're not.

We take for granted the laughter of a bad pun shared between two siblings. We take for granted the chance to watch your mother's wrinkled hands roll pie dough on Thanksgiving Eve. We take for granted sharing a piece of catfish with your favorite aunt. The joy of these most minute moments are pushed out of our minds until those moments become our most prized possessions. When we can no longer replicate them, they become heirlooms, stowed away until you happen upon them by accident.

This picture is one of those moments. As I look at it now, I am overwhelmed by the joy of the memory, but plagued with the regret of the same. If only I moved the camera down a fraction of an inch to capture my sister's face, which I haven't seen in person in a year. Did I miss out on a joke, or a vital detail of a story while I was adjusting the filters on the photo?

This photo reminds me to embrace the moments I am given, because I will never have the same ones again. There will be more sunsets, some more memorable than others, but none will be like that moment.